Comparisons
by CellarDoorsEvilBunnies
Summary: In the end it's all just one kid's sick dream, isn't it? Makes you wonder what's real and what's imaginary... Donnie Darko's about to find out.
1. Default Chapter

In the end it's just all one kid's sick dream, really, isn't it? It's just one of many theories. One of many.... Is that all Donald J. Darko was really? One of many? I mean, it's not every day that you escape certain death and get told the world is going to end by an overgrown, psychotic mammal. Sounds like some kid's sick dream, which brings me back to my original point. He's a sleep-walking, mildly psychopathic, absolutely, unusually troubled sixteen year old who gets a girlfriend, saves the world and uncovers a suspected paedophile. Makes you wonder what's real and what's imaginary.....  
  
Donnie Darko's about to find out.  
  
Donnie's eyes are prised open by the morning sunlight. He glances over to the clock by the side of his bed. He sighs and clambers out from under his sheet in abstraction.  
  
He squints in the early light, lost in the depressing fact that he was no one. He was one of many. Everyone thinks they're one of a kind... that they have something no one else has. Donnie had long since realised that there was no point. Whatever you could do, someone else could do better. His life was but a blur. Endless days sinking into pointless nights. His flayling hobby of scrawling out stories filled with interesting charcters and spontanious plots, illustrated with his doodles at the side, depicting every word. But what did it matter?  
  
He chuckles to himself as he wonders down the stairs, wishing maybe for the last time that his life could be as brilliant as his imagination, and thinking of the endless things he'd say to everyone who'd ever pissed him off. So everyone did this, probably?  
  
He gets the cereal out of the cupboard and puts it down on the table before taking out a piece of paper and a pen from the table.  
  
Oh bleak miserable life... just the epitamy of a depressed teenager's dream. Donnie loved how it sank into oblivion compared with the Middlesex he wrote about.  
  
But then nothing could ever compare to the Donnie Darko he wasn't. Or maybe was... but he just didn't know it yet.


	2. Cave Drawings

Ok, well, no one really gathered this, but 'Comparisons' was supposed to be a one-off story- just a short but as seeing as I'm bored and just got the director's cut for Christmas (haven't seen it yet though, but will) I'll carry it on. And oh, yeah, as seeing as I forgot the disclaimer at the beginning, I'll just say now, no, I'm NOT Richard Kelly- so I guess he could sue me.

'It's the end', Donnie wrote.

It's the end for fictional Donnie. It's the end before it's begun, that's how he liked to start things.

Donnie stared dismally out of the window and saw the neighbour's daughter in her back yard. He sketched her long, dark hair and rosebud lips, adding detail to her shirt. He didn't know her name so he called her Gretchen because he thought it sounded cool.

He drew Donnie and Gretchen kissing, hugging, holding hands and wrote how sad Gretchen was when Donnie died.

How much Gretchen loved Donnie and he loved her back. That was, when he was alive. He figured he would kill off his main character before it started, that way, people would be hooked into the story better and he guessed the pictures helped.

Maybe the pictures didn't help but he liked them all the same.

'Donnie was a superhero. A saviour.' Donnie wrote. He glanced back to Gretchen in her garden.

'Something that not even the lovely Gretchen knew.' He grinned.

Donnie left his pen and paper amidst the clutter on his desk. He left his dark room and dark ideas.

The sun was very bright that day and it pierced his clouded eyes. He walked barefoot over the grass, his fingers going over the spikes of the fence separating him from his fictional co-star.

Gretchen glanced over. She tilts her head. She had seen him before… locked in the enveloping gloom of his bedroom.

Sat at his desk by the window. Writing. Now he looked different- more carefree- out in the sunlight staring at her intensely.

"Hey", Donnie says, giving her a demented smile. She looks at him like he's crazy.

She squints. "Err, hi…" and she continues to wander off, occasionally disappearing under the fence, to look at something, Donnie thought.

"My name's Donnie," He liked introducing himself in character name, it was way more interesting than his real name, "…Donnie Darko".

The girl spun around.

"Were you following me yesterday?" she says, analyzing him.

Donnie jumps.

"No!"

Yes. He had been.

"I'm sure I saw you…. I was on my bike and…"

"No," Donnie says abruptly, "I don't have a bike."

"I never said…"

"But I wasn't!" He said imploringly.

Yes he was. With a camera. Gretchen studied him curiously.

Pictures of the back of 'Gretchen' cycling were being developed right then.

Nevermind. It didn't matter. Donnie shook his head and returned to his cave. She just didn't understand.

'But Donnie could not let Gretchen know his secret. For he wasn't just hiding it from her. He'd died to save them all.' He wrote.

At least she couldn't, not like the Gretchen in the story did.


End file.
